LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

"PSdl 



UNITE!) STATES OF AMEBIC A. 



I) 



ROSES AND RUE . * . BEING THE THIRD 
VOLUME OF THE LOTUS SERIES . ' . PRINTED 
BY THE PRESS OF CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 
IN THE CITY OF BUFFALO. 

MDCCCXCIV. 



HThis book is issued in a limited edition 
of six-hundred copies of which this 

IS NO *£ / 

A 



ovrd, y*«e» 



Roses and Rue 




i 



W. A. TAYLOR 






£TS*7~ % ' 



BUFFALO 

CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 



f 



^3 



Copyright, 1894, 
By W. A. TAYLOR. 



f*HE bud of the rose, ere it wakens, 
Is steeped in the essence of rue; 

The lips of the blossom are sweetened, 
When kissed by the sunlight and dew; 

And our lives are a strange commingling, 
A blending of roses and rue. 



Love 's Labor of Life 
Is to live and let live; 

Lifers Labor of Love 
To forget and forgive. 



CONTENTS. 



JANET: 




In the Clover . 


• 9 


After Ten Years .... 


10 


After Twenty Years . 


. ii 


FIVE FAIR WOMEN: 




Cleopatra: 




Eve Before Actium .... 


13 


After Actium . 


• H 


Cressida: 




At the Gates of Love 


16 


At the Gates of Troy . 


. 18 


In the Grecian Camp .... 


t 9 


Juliet: 




In the Garden Balcony of Capulet . 


. 21 


Viola: 




In Olivia's Garden .... 


24 


Perdita: 




At the Sheep-Shearing . 


• 30 


In the Palace of Leontes . 


35 


Macgahan ...... 


• 37 


Something to Tell .... 


42 


Garfield . . . ... 


. 44 


Chanson ...... 


47 


An Autumn Dream . 


• 53 


Love's Vicissitudes .... 


55 


Truth and Labor .... 


• 57 


The Harvest Moon .... 


59 


The Welcome ..... 


. 62 



viii CONTENTS. 

The Shadow on the Wall .... 65 

Waiting for the Ships . . . . .67 

Promise ...... .70 

The Return . . . . . . .72 

The King's Highway ..... 74 

Why It Is . . . . . . .76 



JANET. 

FULL tide was the sweet June weather, 
When we roamed the fields together, 
Through the purpling of the clover, 
My coy Janet and I. 

She was young and she was slender, 
Brown her eyes, and soft, and tender, 
And the sunshine lent its splendor 
To the glory of her hair. 

We were sweetheart, then, and lover, 
And we dreamed the old dreams over, 
As we wandered in the clover, 
My sweet Janet and I. 

Paradise spread out before us, 
With the blue sky bending o'er us, 
And the birds and bees in chorus, 
Sang us of the By-and-By. 

9 



10 JANET. 

O, sweet birds, and bees, and clover, 
Happy sweetheart, happy lover, 
Still you linger and grow brighter 
As the happy years go by. 

AFTER TEN YEARS. 

There are milestones ten in the road, Janet — 

The road of the years that runneth down 
From the chancel-rail of the church, Janet — 

The quiet church in the quiet town, 
Where we met and plighted our vows, and looked 

Far out on the sheen of life's broad sea, 
Where our beauteous ship at anchor lay, 

Its white sails beckoning you and me. 

There were tears in your eyes that night, Janet, 

Your voice was choked, and your cheeks were 
pale, 
And your white hand trembled in mine, Janet, 

As I held it there at the chancel-rail; 
For you knew that our ship was outward bound, 

Its untried sails on an unknown sea, 
With Love at the helm and Hope aloft, 

Its haven the far-off Yet-to-Be. 

Oh, bright were your eyes that night, Janet, 
Through your shimm'ring veil and falling tears! 

But purer and brighter they shine, Janet, 
Like the midsummer sun of the joyful years; 



JANET. Ir 

For those tears are gone, like the mist of morn, 
Your smiles are sweeter with lapse of time, 

And the hopes of our youth are interwove 
With the threads of a glorifying rhyme. 

And our ship has sailed on the sea, Janet, 

Where islands slope to a shining strand; 
We live in the breath of flowers, Janet, 

That bloom forever in Love's own land. 
The hopes of our youth are crowned with gold, 

The harvest ripened through storm and shine; 
Not a dream was broken in all the years, 

Because of that deathless love of thine. 

There are milestones ten on the road, Janet — 

The road of the years that runneth down 
From the chancel-rail of the church, Janet — 

The quiet church in the quiet town, 
Where our vows were plighted, our lives made one; 

Whence we tried the waves of Life's wide sea, 
And we found in the land of Love and Song 

The blessed haven that was to be. 

AFTER TWENTY YEARS. 

Twenty years have passed us over, 
And among the fields of clover, 
We still walk and dream together, 
My own Janet and I. 



12 JANET. 

She's no longer young and slender, 
But her eyes are soft and tender, 
And the sunshine in its splendor 
Finds no silver in her hair. 

We are sweetheart, still, and lover, 
As we wander in the clover, 
And we dream our young dreams over, 
My own Janet and I. 

'Mong the birds and bees and clover — 
A new sweetheart, a new lover, 
Walk beside us and dream over 
All the happy By-and-By. 

O, sweet birds, and bees, and clover, 
Happy sweetheart, happy lover, 
May your dreams, like ours, grow brighter 
As the changing years go by. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 
CLEOPATRA. 

EVE BEFORE ACTIUM. 

I • • O OME lurking devil seems to curse this spot, 
O Hide 'mong the trees and poison ail my 
flowers — 
i Or am I jealous? When the moon last night 
! Turned into jasper all my marble walls, 
' And the broad Nilus, like a silver flood, 
J Went pulsing by as softly as the sleep 
j Of some young maiden, April like and coy, 
(All fancy, reveling in half bridal dreams — 
j My Roman soldier shook the odorous boughs, 
And flung the milk-white blossoms at my feet — 
My Roman soldier, my Marc Antony, 
My god, my hero, whose strong-sinewed arm, 
In brooding battle ne'er was impotent; 
Whose deep toned voice fell softly on my ear, 
Sweet as the music of the amorous lute, 
Or anklets tinkling o'er the velvet floor — 
My Antony — not the pale Octavia's — 
Pale as a lily, passionless as snow. 

13 



14 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



"Mad with the poisoned chalice of my love, 
All bitterness with absence, but as sweet 
As twice ten thousand odor- bearing gales 
When he is near me; how my pulsing heart 
Throbs like a timbrel to my jealousy, 
Until he comes, still trampling the flowers 
As he trode down the nations of the world. 
Friend of my first god-lover, he who made 
Dead Caesar speak with wondrous eloquence; 
My idol, whom I worship like the sun, 
What drug robbed thy fond mem'ry of its tryst, 
Here at my beryl fountains at the gates ? 
Wake, my sweet Iras, shake your silken curls 
As golden as the sunshine of the Ind; 
Melt the smooth honey of your tuneful throat, 
And sing, till he shall hear you, brushing through 
The musky blossoms of the scented ground." 

AFTER ACTIUM. 

"Charmian, my robe bring hither, 

Bring my diadem and pearls, 
I will die in regal splendor, 

Scoffing at the Roman churls; 
I'll meet the proud Octavius 

As becomes brave Egypt's queen; 
He shall grace my greatest triumph, 

Greater than his own hath been. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



15 



Iras, Charmian, my maidens, 

Deck me for the audience day, 
Strew my brow with pearls and diamonds — 

Rubies of the rich Cathay — 
Deck me with my lover's offerings 

Out of all the empires drawn, 
Rich enough to buy my ransom, 

Or take a kingdom out of pawn. 
It is fitting that the temple 

Should out shine the starry night, 
When the tenant soul, immortal, 

Goeth hence in upward flight. 
Kiss me, Charmain and Iras, 

Take the aspic from my lip, 
'Tis the purest of elixir — 

Life immortal — that you sip. 
Thus ! Now let the proud Octavius 

Look upon me stark and dead; 
Let him take the clay-cold casket 

With the richest jewel fled: 
Let him chain it to his chariot, 

Drag it through the streets of Rome, 
With the heartless rabble shouting 

To the victors marching home. 
Kiss me, Charmian and Iras — 

Queen triumphant to the last ! 
There ! I hear the Roman legions 

In their armor clanging past. 



l6 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

Husband, by the gods encircled, 

My Marc Antony, I come; 
Ope the gates that bar my entrance, 

And command the gods make room!" 



CRESSIDA. 

AT THE GATES OF LOVE. 



" O glorious temple of supreme delight, 

Sun-crowned Elysium, doubly steeped in joy, 
Richer than Priam's palace looking down 

Upon the martial streets of warlike Troy; 
Of thee I dreamed, while looking on the sea 

Where Grecian shallops flitted in the wind, 
Whence Helen came a willing captive borne 

From him who planned avenging war behind. 
O golden palace, girt about with flowers, 

Where nectar from the marble fountains flows, 
Beneath whose shadows joys supernal thrive, 

Where every thorn bursts in a double rose. 

O priest and god in one, Troilus, bend 
Thy warlike ear while blushing beauty pays 

Her homage at the world's great, central shrine, 
Confession mingled with deep- hearted praise. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. jj 

When from the field your dinted armor rang, 

My heart lay on the stones beneath your feet — 
Blushing I loved thee — blushing I confess — 

Hiding my heart from its own truth so sweet, 
King and confessor, deity in one, 

I woo you warmer than you ask my love; 
Open the temple and unveil the shrine, 

While all the gods look smiling from above. 



Here no Cassandra need forecast the years, 

They speak with sweeter breath than Phrygia 
blows 
From isles of spice 'yond Darden's tented plain 

Where warlike Greece the gage of battle throws. 
Now Troy seems glorious, bathed in sweeter light 

Than streams by Tenedos at early morn, — 
And Helen's love was but the infant bud 

From which my own more perfect love was born. 
Nay doubt not, my sweet lord, it ne'er shall be 

That I'll look back on love clasped vows defiled, 
Here grows the flower of perfect happiness, 

That Love to being in a moment smiled. 



Here at the altar be the prophet- priest 

To whom I swear my heart's own inner truth- 
Write it upon the eternal field of heaven, 
A guide or warning to all unborn youth: 



l8 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

When I am false, Truth shall go clad in shame, 

Love seek the thorns and shun the garden ground, 
Maidens hate beauty, flowers the light of morn, 

And the sweet moon cease in her nightly round: 
When I am false, let Memory set the hour 

In monumental brass, and make that day 
The mountain of all Time, whereon to write: 

1 Falsehood was born with the fair Cressida.' " 



AT THE GATES OF TROY. 
2 

"This ends the day: Here is the door of doom: 

Troilus, Love, Hope, Troy and Life, farewell, 
I leave my hopes behind me rent and torn, 

Like Proserpina at the gates of Hell. 
I go a captive from my heart's own shrine, — 

Unblest with Love's enticing, joyous light, 
While he behind me, at the temple door, 

Stands like the prophet of the starless night. 
I go to weep my soul away; to dream 

Of Troy and my own soverign, noble lord, 
To hate the barbarous Greek, and lock my love 

Against the onslaught of a single word. 
Farewell, Troilus, till you come again, 

My heart is hermit in its secret cell, 
Nor Greece could break the barrier, or take 

The treasure clasped in that one word— Farewell. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



19 



Farewell! Six-gated Troy, you lock without 

More sorrow than you lock within. The heart 
Of Cressid carrying all of woman's grief, 

From out your portals weeping must depart. 
Farewell, Troilus, till you come again, 

Through Grecian ranks a reaper crowned with 
grain, 
I shall await you feeding Love's bright fire 

With Memory there on Darden's martial plain." 



IN THE GRECIAN CAMP. 



" Love and distance are at variance, 
And no half-way priest can hold 

To severed lips the nectared chalice- 
Carved in porphyry and gold. 

Troy, at best, is but a memory, 

The pale reflex of a day, 
That vanished like a sunbeam 

While my heart was still at play. 



Woman's wisdom follows wooing, 
And she treads the busy marts, 

While she learns the art of loving 
In the gallant quest of hearts. 



20 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

Diomed outbids Troilus, 

Shall I weep my eyes away, 
Waiting for an absent lover 

Who dared not bid me stay ? 

Woman's wisdom follows wooing 
As the sunlight follows dawn, 

And the princely lover present 
Hides the princely lover gone. 

Memory? An idle pageant ! 

Faith ? A prude that tortures youth ! 
Truth ? 'Tis but the foundling Falsehood ! 

Falsehood ? But the child of Truth ! 

Woman's heart is in the market — 
This the lesson I have learned — 

True or false, 'tis still an incense, 

To man's changeful passions burned." 

4 

True woman's love is not in words, 
That any tuneful lips may say; 

In her soul's depths it silent lies, 
And like a diamond shines alway. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

JULIET. 

IN THE GARDEN BALCONY OF CAPULET. 

The shirred gold Summer of her hair, 
The wistful pose of rounded form, 
The deep drawn sigh, the pulsing warm 

Of her fond heart that flutters there, 
Are less a dream than poets make 

Their visions sweet and fair; 

The sweet Italian Summer blows 
Across the star-strewn sky, and steals 
The odors, till it nods and reels 

From ruby lip to paler rose, 

From bloom to bud, until the East 
Breaks, and the day reveals; 

The cheek's glow in the silent night, 
Flushing the marble of her hands 
On which it leans, the far green lands, 

With here and there a glim' ring light— 
The hush that waits on wak'ning Love 
And stays Time's falling sands; 

The rustle of the feath'ry spray, 

The drowse that hangs upon the dawn, 
The nameless tremor interdrawn 



22 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

Into the heart of Love's young day, 
Were there where stately Capulet 
Cast shadows on the lawn. 

"With Love's light wings I'd scale the wall;" 
" Hush, timorous prattler, Death would seal 
Thy life and manhood — 'gainst the steel 

Of ancient feuds and ancient brawl 
Love's armor would be gossamer, 

And Death encompass all." 

" Look on me, I am trebly armed;" 
"Alack ! I would not they should see 
Thee here, go softly hence, to me 

Death would come twice to see thee harmed, 
Better a single, crushing pang, 

Better I die love charmed. 

" Who turned thy feet to wander here? 

How found you out my garden path ?" 

" Love has more eyes than Argus hath, 
A keener sense, a finer ear, 

He waits not till the harvest falls 

To glean the after-math." 

" Ask you my love ? 'Tis freely thine, — 
Sweet night, that masks my maiden cheek, 
Hide thou my blushes, while I speak, — 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 2 $ 

You ask; the worthless gift is thine, 

Thine, thine, all thine, brave Montague, 
A thousand times 'tis thine. 

11 'Tis thine, and yet I would recall 
My love to give it thee again, 
And give, and give, as falls the rain, 

So much, so little, yet my all, 
As the sea boundless, infinite, 

So great and yet so small." 

"Good night." "A thousand times good 
night." 

How all the gliding years do ring 

With that sweet sadness — poets sing, 
And lovers kiss and kill the light 

With that prophetic, sad, sweet word, 

When it means everything. 

In Capel's garden not alone — 

Not in Verona grows the yew 

Above the sleeping Montague, 
Shrouding the silent ducal throne — 

Where the fair rose of Capulet 
In splendor should have grown. 

Down all the years the blight has been, 
The hand that crosses Love's bright way, 
And caste blots out the light of day, 



24 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

And ancient hate steps in between 

The hopes of youth, repeating there 
Verona's tragic sin. 



Far as the sun looks forth the blue, 
Far as the sea spreads by the shore- 
As Time has told the seasons o'er, 

Juliet hath died, cypress and yew 
Have draped the murdered Capulet, 

The murdered Montague. 



VIOLA. 



IN OLIVIA'S GARDEN. 



" Dream of my soul — it dies forever, 

Here in the message I bear; 
Hope of my heart — forever it falls 

At her jeweled feet, and there 
My life goes out like a vision — 

As a ship goeth down at sea, 
My hope is under the water, 

And the stars are dead to me. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



" O God, who guarded the ocean, 

And brought me safe to the land, 
'Twere sweeter to die forgotten, 

And sleep in the drifting sand; 
'Twere better to join a brother 

And drift in the soulless deep, 
Than bear my heart as a censer, 

And smile when I fain would weep. 

ill. 

' ' A priest who comes to Love's altar, 

A prophet who smiles and lies, 
The oracle dumb, but speaking, 

And hating her soulful eyes. 
A priest who comes to Love's altar, 

With a rote of tuneful lies, 
Neither priest nor prophet — I am 

A lamb for the sacrifice. 

IV. 

" I con it; 'O fairest maiden, 

Of the world the lov'liest one, 
I bear thee a true heart laden 

With love that is thine alone, 
I pray you take it.' O falsehood, 

It blisters my soul to speak 
The lie with which I am laden; 

So heavy, while I am weak. 



25 



26 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



"O bright are your eyes, cold beauty, 

Your icicle smile is sweet, 
I woo you in place of your lover — 

I'd strike you dead at my feet. 
Your lips are red, and the blossom 

Of youth in your cheek appears— 
I'd plant in your eyes the crow-feet 

That mark the track of the years. 

VI. 

" O sweetest of all, my master, 

Is a slave at your bright shrine, 
Unbend, O statue of splendor, 

Relent, O vision divine — 
A curse on your cold, cold beauty, 

A curse on the spell you hold, 
That keeps my love in the shadow 

And covers with dross the gold. 

VII. 

" It is love unblemished I bear you, 

Sweet mistress that rules the State, 
I pray you accept the treasure, 

Or seal the giver's sad fate. 
Ah take it! — my soul forever 

Would be armed in pitiless war, 
While the sun came out of the ocean, 

And the night revealed a star. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 27 

VIII. 

" O poison of Love, that racks me, 

I'd die at his feet, and say 
I was happy, if he would give me 

The jewels she flings away; 
If a tithe that he sends her greeting 

Were poured in my ear that waits 
At the pillars of the Elysium, 

I'd open the splendid gates. 



"The grass at my feet, the flowers, 

The trees that are over head, 
The winds that came from the ocean 

To tell me about my dead, 
The voice of the air that fans me, 

Are demons that mock and jeer; 
My heart is there with Orsino, 

My burden of lies is here. 

x. 

" There at the window she waits me, 

Her cheek like a flower aflame, 
Her eyes that are glancing downward, 

As Love was at war with Shame. 
What a welcome, ye gods forbid it, 

That yesterday's words I spoke, 
Have touched her heart, made it tender, 

Till't bows to the lordly yoke. 



2 8 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



" O vision of womanly beauty, 

If you knew a tithe of the truth, 
And you were a woman, loving 

The joy of untainted youth; 
You would cast the gifts I bear you 

At the feet of she who begs, 
Whose lips are athirst with fever 

When the wine is at the dregs. 

XII. 

" If you knew how my heart panted 

For what you scorned y ester e'en — 
How the sands of the waste would blossom, 

And the desert be clothed in green; 
If mine were but half the burden 

I bore to your palace door, 
You'd give what I gave and make me 

Slave of thy wish evermore. 

XIII. 

God, whoguarded the ocean, 
And brought me safe to the land, 

There are things in life the wisest 
Of men can not understand. 

1 bear to the feet of another 
The treasure I dare not give 

Nor keep — I know at the parting 
That I would no longer live. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



The drift of young Love is no riddle, 
Though his arrows oft fly in the dark, 

The archer is blind and the feathers 

May sometimes fly far wide of the mark. 

2. 

When sun comes after the darkness, 

And the blossoms come after the rain, 
The sky is more blue when the lightning 
Has burned fierce over heaven's wide plain. 



Each gloom has a happy hereafter 
After midnight the full-lighted day, 

And Love that lies dead in the morning 
At the evening is joyous with play. 



The cold, unrelenting Olivias 
Oft are sweeter than even they know, 

And many grief-laden Violas, 

Reap the harvests they thoughtlessly sow. 



29 



30 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

PERDITA. 

AT THE SHEEP-SHEARING. 



Bohemia's Summer coy and sweet 
Was in her cheek — and in her eye 
The far depths of Sicilia's sky, 
Where violet and azure meet, 
And Love gives Love his kisses sweet 
As he flies lightly laughing by. 



Her tiring women bowing low, 
And rustic lovers in the road, 
The hawker with his motley load, 
Swart shearers moving to and fro, 
A dial's shadow rounding slow, 
And cattle wincing 'neath the goad; 

in. 

The clash of tongues, the songs afar, 
Soft shimmer of mid-Summer trees, 
The toying kisses of the breeze, 
A flitting dream of distant war, 
Like the pale reflex of a star, 
The quip of those, the gibe of these, 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



IV. 



31 



Touched not her heart, that softly beat 
To music dumb to other ears — 
She saw the glitter of the shears, 

And heard the tread of many feet; 

She saw the courtly courtiers meet, 
And heard the jangle of their spurs; 



And yet she heard not — in a spell 

She saw the whole world go and pass, 
Till in the shadow of the glass 
She saw the eyes of Florizel, 
And read — the story 'twas — ah well — 
The whisper running through the grass, 

VI. 

The white clouds in the shining blue, 
The songsters in among the leaves, 
The crickets hiding in the sheaves, 
Had told the story when 'twas new, 
And Love her whole soul to him drew, 
As deftly as the weaver weaves. 

VII. 

Ah ! day of Love's ecstatic bliss — 
" A queen among the gods," he said; 
" Fie, your extremes !" with drooping head, 



32 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

" Why flatter me with words like this, 
Fair lordling, stooping with a kiss 
To woo a lowly shepherd maid?" 

VIII. 

" Nay, but I rise to greet thy face, 
Sweet goddess of the rustic wold; 
Nor castles shining girt with gold, 
Hold aught so full of love and grace — 
No priceless jewel— out of place — 
Like you, their miser coffers hold," 

IX. 

" My lord, thy words are fair and sweet, 
But 'gainst the mandate of the king, 
Even Love is but a worthless thing, 
A flower crushed under iron feet — 
Than any dream more frail and fleet — 
Lighter than any song we sing. 

x. 

" Fair live Perdita's love, but I 
Hope not, lest grief my hope enthrall, 
Lest the fierce cloud of wrath should fall 
Out of the hidden, sullen sky, 
And as the fierce wind hurries by 

Death grimly comes and claims it all," 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



" Nay, sweetest, in Time's changeful flight, 
He makes the cycle all complete; 
The ages one by one repeat 

The stars that shine 'cross ancient night; 

The long lines meet in points of light, 
And prophecy grows ever sweet. 

XII. 

" As wooed the gods, I woo thee here, 
In guise that hides nor yet conceals; 
That shrouds the truth, and yet reveals 
The growing promise of the year, 
The golden promise and the cheer 
That decks Time's gaily flying wheels." 

XIII. 

" But for the manly truth that glows 

In all thy words, I fain would say 

You wooed me the deceitful way, 

Poisoning the over-trusting rose — 

I trust thee, though a thousand woes 

Come to me in my wakening day." 

XIV. 

" Sweet trust; your love outbids your fear: 
The dance ! Let doubt fly with the wind! 
Love is before, all doubt behind; 



33 



34 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

The hour dawns to the perfect year, 
There was the bud, the bloom is here, 
Let Love be brave as he is blind." 

xv. 

Stronger than Faith or mouldering Time 

Is woman's love — the stars that glow 

In heaven, will sooner fade and go, 

Or innocence espouse a crime, 

And music break her plight with rhyme, 

Than woman's lamp of love burn low. 

XVI. 

Love, Faith, Hope, Happiness are one 
When woman loves; the perfect whole 
Rounds out the fullness of the soul, 
And shapes the courses of the sun 
And stars that through Truth's heaven run, 
True to the magnet and the pole. 

xvn. 

Bohemia's Summer coy and sweet 
Shed softer luster on her hair, 
And Love grew in the Summer air, 

And bloomed about her dainty feet; 

And in her cheek where blushes meet, 
Joy set his shining signet there. 



FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 



XVIII. 



35 



Sweet dream! Fair vision unredeemed, 
False mirage of the heart's fond hope, 
Ah! what delusive joys but ope 
To close again— the fire that streamed 
Across Love's altar, crisped, and seemed 
To sweep the whole world in its scope. 

IN THE PALACE OF LEONTES. 



Sicilian summer at its tide 

Aflush with bud and bloom, 
Sat smiling like a new-made bride 

Clothed from a magic loom. 
On all the lawns cool fountains play, 

From windows banners flare, 
Caste triumphs, yet Love wins the day, 

And sits a victor there. 
The shepherd maid looks down to see 

The whole world at her feet — 
She hears the music from the sea 

Sweep in upon the street. 
The crown of Love, the marriage bell 

Rings from the belfry clear, 
Bohemia's hope, Sicilian spell 

Of joy, rounds out the sphere, 



36 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 

Love triumphs; smiling over all, 
The Knight in tourney crowned— 

For him each beauty from the wall 
Casts flowers on the ground. 



Sicilian Summer smiling sweet, 

On twice a princess shone, 
Royal that Nature's graces meet 

In womanhood alone. 
Ah! higher than her pride of birth, 

Than place and power and name, — 
Her rustic grace, her modest worth, 

Her blush of maiden shame. 
Sweet Princess of the sylvan wild, 

'Mong flowers and honey bees, 
The praise you won, as Nature's child, 

Ere courtiers bent their knees, 
Was homage to thy soul's true worth 

The meed of Nature's truth, 
The one sweet flower that sets the earth 

In garb of endless youth. 



MACGAHAN. 

HERO, JOURNALIST, LIBERATOR. 
I. 

NOT stately verse, nor trumpets blowing fame; 
Not praise from lips of matchless eloquence; 
Not monumental piles nor epitaphs; 
Funereal pomp, nor all combined, can make 
Man other then he fashions for himself 
Out of the warp and woof of Circumstance. 
A man lies here whose hand ennobled Time, 
And wrote a deathless page of history; 
Up from these hills our hero made his way — 
A western star that shone across the East, 
Moved forward by the hand of Destiny. 
Here, knee-deep in the purple clover bloom, 
He drank life's springtime bubbling at the fount— 
A school-girl's tenderness about his eyes — 
Less'ning a loving mother's daily toil, 
Content, yet all his soul unsatisfied. 
Out of such gentle stuff are heroes made — 
And he who wept a fallen butterfly, 
Rode like a storm-cloud down the long plateaus, 
Defying Girghis, Turk and Turcoman — 
Across the Oxus, knocking at the gates 
Of far, mysterious Khiva, in a realm 

37 



38 MACGAHAN. 

That filled his boyish dreams of Wonderland: 
Kings, khans and caliphs passed him in review — 
The proud voluptuary and the cringing slave — 
Seraglios, palaces and minarets 
Revealed their secrets, till the world amazed, 
Rose and reached forth a succoring hand to man. 
Bulgaria in the wine press of the Turk, 
Gave blood and tears and groaned upon the rack, 
Until his mighty thunders 'gainst the wrong 
Rocked Europe to its base, unloosed the slave 
And set the sun of freedom o'er the hills 
Where serfs had groped through ages of eclipse. 
And then, where Stamboul, standing by the sea 
Looks through the spicy gateways of the East — 
Youth on his brow and summer on his lips, 
Crowned more than conqueror and more than king- 
Dreaming of these green hills, a mother's love, 
Of wife and babe and kindred's loving touch, 
With all the world before him, his great soul 
Ascended to the Infinite, and mankind 
Are better for this hero having lived. 

II. 

Here where the green hills turn to gray 

Under the warm Autumnal sun, 

We lay him, with his honors won, 
Where first his eyes looked on the day, 

His work well done. 



MACGAHAN. 

There where proud Stamboul by the sea 
Looks through the Orient's purple gate, 
He met the Apostle's common fate, 

But ere he died, Bulgaria free 
Arose in state. 

His was God's sword in Gideon's field, 

That reaped like sheaves the souls of men, 
Justice, not blood, imbued his pen, 

And his strong truth became the shield 
And buckler then. 

And his the ennobling part to dare — 
The Apostle's glory in the thralls — 
Whose triumph, when the body falls, 

Like a broad sun of radiance rare 
Lights up the walls. 

With him who holds the truth in awe — 

Nor recks what bitter storms are poured — 
"The pen is mightier than the sword," 

And his strong armor without flaw 
Keeps perfect guard. 

O, green hills sloping east and west. 
To purple eve and crimson day, 
He comes along the martyr's way, 

His work with Freedom's paens blessed — 
He comes to-day. 



39 



4o 



MACGAHAN. 



Here o'er the dust of him whose name 
Grew from these green hills, far away 
Into the Orient's warmer day, 

Bright'ning the gilded scroll of Fame, 
Fair Truth can say: 

" His hand bore not a hireling blade — 
His soul was trained to noble deeds, 
From out the grain he plucked the weeds, 

And in the battle, undismayed, 
Struck down false creeds. " 

Fair youth, among the quiet lanes, 
Came there a vision of the years 
Before you, telling of the tears, 

The struggles, triumphs and the pains, 
The hopes and fears ? 

And watching as you went afield, 

Barefoot, to drive the lowing herd, 
Saw you the dim, far Orient stirred 

Its dark crimes and its secrets yield 
At thy stern word ? 

Did Hesperus at eve proclaim 

That you at Islam's mystic gate 
Should change the drifting tide of fate 

And blow upon the trump of Fame 
With breath elate ? 



MACGAHAN. 41 

That he who drove his father's kine 

Beneath the northern moon should be 
The Liberator, and set free 

The bondsman with the touch divine 
Of liberty? 

Not where fair Stamboul's minarets 

Look down upon Marmora's sea, 

But in the glad soil of the free, 
We lay him down without regrets, 

While Time shall be. 

There sleep, O brother of the pen, 

Till the archangel's trump shall say 
The night ends in the eternal day, 

And Truth shall judge who have been men, 
Who went astary. 



SOMETHING TO TELL. 

I'VE something to tell you, blue-eyed one! 
Come with me down to the swinging gate; 
The rest might hear it — I would that none 
Should hear it but you, my blue- eyed one; 
Then come with me down to the swinging gate. 

I've something to say in your soft pink ear, 

Down there where the blossoms are fresh and red; 

And the blossoms ne'er whisper the things they hear; 

But treasure them deep in their petals, my dear, 
Or sigh them away to the stars overhead. 

I've something to breathe in your wealth of curls, 

Down there where the brook is a thing of glee, 
And the waters go by in eddying whirls, 
Like the merry laughter of romping girls — 
Will you listen, my love, while I breathe it thee ? 

I've something to speak that I can not keep 

Forever and aye in my heart's warm shrine; 
It's musicial, low, and warm, and deep, 
As the dreamy music that pulses our sleep, 
And as true as the sweetest stars that shine. 

42 



SOMETHING TO TELL. 

I've something to ask as I hold your hand, 

And press you close to my own warm heart; 
While our lips are touching, the golden sand 
In the glass of Time shall surcease and stand, 
And you'll answer me ere our lips can part! 

I've something to ask you, under the blue, 

While the moon is stooping to kiss the sea, 
That of all the world I would ask but you, 
And ask till you answer me warm and true — 
For the truth of your love is warm to me. 

I've something to ask you — never again 

Shall the question be spoken by lips of mine, 
If you answer me fondly, my pulses then 
Will throb with the highest hopes of men, 
And beat in eternal thrill to thine. 

I've something to ask you! Nay, no one is here 
But the fairies who list in the flowers for thee; 
Then listen, my sweet! I would win thee here — 
Ah! why did I waver so long, my dear? 

For your kisses are sweeter than Eden to me! 



43 



GARFIELD. 

ILLUSTRIOUS dead! O glorious light, 

1 That wraps the soldier-statesman's dust! 
O broken scepter, keen but just, 

That cleft the day out of the night! 

Thou art no pillar fallen prone, 

No wreck upon Time's wreck-strewn shore, 
Thy name shall grow from more to more, 

For all thy work was nobly done. 

This was thy greatest; when you fell 
Before the greedy spoilsman's rage, 
You solved the problem of the age 

And after history will tell, 

How the Republic rose and spoiled 
The spoilsman in his mad career, 
And wrought within this sacred year, 

All that for which the nation toiled. 

O noble offering on the shrine 
Of purer things and loftier days, 
Up from the darkness of the ways 

Shall come the effulgent light divine. 

44 






GARFIELD. 

Shall come the alembic that will burn 
The greed for power, the lust for spoil, 
Crowning the worthy sons of toil, 

And shed its brightness on thy urn. 

Here grief hath not one dark regret, 
Sorrow no bitterness of woe, 
And on thy turf the tears that flow, 

Are gems in strong affection set. 

Proud heart that quailed not at the cry 
Of harpies in their quest for blood, 
Brave lion, falling where you stood, 

Thy great achievements can not die. 

O baptism red ! O sacrifice 
Of greatness for the righteous cause, 
Truth, justice, better, purer laws — 

Thy glorious monument shall rise. 

In thy dead face we faintly see 
God's purpose of the after years, 
And, watered by the nation's tears, 

The harvest of the Yet-to-be. 

O comrade, tried oh fields of fire, 
And true amid the battle's shock, 
Thy purpose firmer than a rock 

Shall grow the nation's one desire, 

Till thy dead face shall rise and glow 
Like Arcturus in yon blue sky, 
A quenchless beacon shining high, 

To point to us the path to go. 



45 



46 GARFIELD. 

For her — God help her in her need — 
Who buckled on thy battle gear, 
And sent thee forth with smile and tear — 

For her each soldier's heart will bleed. 

For her — God help her while she weeps 

Who crowned thee with life's proudest bays, 
When Peace came with the shining days — 

Each soldier's heart a vigil keeps. 

Sleep on, O comrade of the sword, 
O civic hero, nobly crowned, 
Sleep till the last reveille sound, 

While Fame and History stand guard. 



CHANSON. 

THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY I7S8 — 1< 



HERE Freedom young and brave and strong 
Unfurled her banner, set her feet 
Upon the virgin soil, and turned 
The Star of Destiny to greet. 

11. 

Her's was an empire reaching out 

Unto the doorways of the night 
Where darkness brooded; in her hand 

She bore the torch of Truth and Right. 

hi. 

Before her lay the unconquered waste, 

Behind her, smiling by the sea, 
Her virgin mother, proud and chaste, 

Chanted the hymn of Liberty. 

47 



48 CHANSON. 



IV. 



A song of triumph ringing through 
The solemn pines, the mountain pass, 

Until the future came and shone 
As shines a picture in the glass. 



v. 



Here Progress took the form of Law, 
Here Government arose and led 

The onward march by hill and plain, 
And oft the road was rough and red. 



But harvests blossomed from the graves 
Where e'er the echoing bugle blew — 

Each was a king, no cringing slave 
Marched where proud Freedom's banner flew. 



Here Freedom's sacred muniments 

Were dedicated to mankind, 
Here Sword and Balance, Peace and War, 

Were in a common mission joined. 

VIII. 

Faith saw beyond the horizon's rim 
A newer nation rising strong — 

The battle and the harvest hymn 
Were blended in the phophet's song. 



CHANSON. 49 

IX. 

There shone a promise in the sky, 
Sweet sang the summer winds that broke 

Into the river's lullaby, 
And stirred the acer and the oak. 



The strokes of Labor, true and strong, 
From hill and valley, wood and brake, 

Were but the words of prophecy 

Through which the mighty angel spake. 

XI. 

Beneath our feet dead empires lie, 

Above us shines the newer star; 
Here some proud Memphis mocked the sky, 

Then broke upon the crest of war. 

XII. 

O genial soil, with life instinct, 

Whence warriors sprang and statesman grew, - 
You gave their blood the imperial tinct 

That shines the whole world through and 
through. 

XIII. 

Here opened out a splendid page, 

Here grew a grander race of men 
Than any since the Golden Age, 

Great with the sword, the plow, the pen. 



5o 



CHANSON. 
XIV. 

Fresh from the Revolution's fire 
They came to hew the empire's wav 

Through trackless wastes, and to inspire 
The sunlight of young Freedom's day. 

xv. 

" With Truth's keen scythe they cut a swath 
Through Wrong and Falsehood to Reform; 

We reap the glorious aftermath, 
Free from the peltings of the storm. 



Here fell the civic seed which grew 
To blade and sheaf, and spreading far 

Fed all the hungry pilgrims through 
Long periods of waste and war. 

XVII. 

Here rose an empire, here the march 

Of civil government began; 
Here Law put on the robe of Power, 

And Might became the friend of Man. 



And going hence, with hands outspread, 
One on the plow, one on the hilt — 

The new-born standing for the dead — 
An hundred splendid cities built. 



CHANSON. 51 



XIX. 



They grew to sovereigns proud and fair, 
From out this garden, now behold 

They come, long lines of pilgrims, here 
Where Freedom timed their march of old. 



xx. 



They come, five queens, proud sisterhood, 
With teeming millions all elate; 

Five States with common hopes and blood, 
Part of one great and perfect State. 



xxi. 



Here to this shrine, where Freedom set 
Her banner in red Danger's van, 

And smote the wilderness and cried: 
"Make way before the march of man! 



XXII. 



They come when full the century rounds, 
Proud pilgrims offering np their deeds 

Upon the altar, trumpet sounds 

Proclaim that: " Virtue still succeeds.' 



XXIII. 



They come from fields whose summer glow 
Like yellow Ormus shames the sun; 

From purple meadows bending low 
When east the fragrant Zephyrs run; 



52 



CHANSON. 



XXIV. 



From cities where long flags of fire 
Flash in the sky from dark to dawn, 

Where o'er the endless lines of steel 
The modern Cyclops rushes on; 



xxv. 



From lakes whose waters cold and clear 
Reflect the stars in heaven's dome: 

From rivers singing like a seer, 
Of mightier triumphs yet to come. 



AN AUTUMN DREAM. 

FAR off the white ships come and go, 
Slipping between the dusk and light 
Into the purple veil of night, 

With Autumn's heavens all aglow- 
Above the evening stars grow bright. 

Here flame the asters by the road, 
Long, ridging waves of lightest gold, 
And velvet meadows soft unrolled 

Unto my feet— oh, weary load, 
The clinging, bitter grief of old; 

There, purpling on their vines, the grapes 
Grow rich in lustre, change in hue, 
With wealth of sunlight, star and dew: 

At twilight come familiar shapes 

That slant the long lanes through and through 

To me, the old years come again— 
Our parting by the shell-strewn shore; 
The bitter when the sweet was o'er; 

That farewell, like a sad refrain, 
That died amid the breakers' roar. 

Oh, years of life beyond the sea ! 

53 



54 AN AUTUMN DREAM. 

The weary quest for fleeting peace, 

The sorrow that had no surcease, 
The mocking dreams that came to me — 

The bitter thrall without release ! 
Why did we part ? Ah, cruel lies, 

You did your work too well, and drew 

The sunlight of the whole world through 
Your poisoned fangs and stony eyes, 

And left us only death's cold dew ! 
Here, where the waves for love complain, 

Beneath the Autumn's sunset glow, 

With yon moon in the twilight low 
Kissing the aster-bordered plain, 

I stand because I love her so. 
The long lane shines with softer light, 

The asters change to richer gold, 

And she — the glorious dream of old — 
Comes smiling through the veil of night, 

With wealth of beauty still untold. 
Far off, the white ships come and go, 

Like dreams between the dusk and light. 

One touch, and all the heavens are bright, 
O'erhead, the stars of long ago 

Shine soft with Love's own perfect light. 



LOVE'S VICISSITUDES. 

THE DEATH. 

<<r "PHUS dies my love," she said; and down 
1 The rose leaves showered, bruised and 
sweet — 

"Thus dies my love, asunder torn; 
Thus dies my love beneath my feet. 

I would not wake it, since 'tis dead. 
Sleep on, oh, dead! beside the sea — 

Sleep on, the bright stars overhead, 

The watchers o'er thy tomb shall be; 
For he was false, and I was true. 

He never loved — that much I know. 
His smile, that all my nature drew 

To him, was false — deceived me so. 
Thus dies my love. I will forget 

His words, his smile. Ah, still it clings 
About my soul — a glit'ring net 

That snares th' unhappy bird that sings." 

II Thus dies my love," he said; and drew 
Her letters forth. " Ah, pretty lies, 

You have deceived me long enough; 
I read your gossamer disguise. 

55 



5 6 LOVE'S VICISSITUDES. 

Thus dies my love, to ashes turned, 

Like those false leaves in yonder flame, 
That, life-like, as they slowly burned, 

Unto the last preserved her name 
And mine half interwove. Adieu, 

Bright dreams — that were but dreams, alas! 
For she was false, and I was true. 

Oh, painted reflex on the glass 
Of love! Oh, tender, violet eyes, 

That held my inmost soul in thrall ! 
Oh, liquid depths of hidden lies 

And charms— I will forget them all ! " 

THE RESURRECTION. 

They met. "My love is dead! " "And mine ! 

" Farewell, oh, tender, violet eyes ! " 
"Adieu, deceitful smile divine ! " 

An Love, though dead, could still uprise 
And smile above his rose-strewn tomb. 

One touch, one kiss, and they forgot 
The wormwood and the cypress gloom — 

Forgetful, yet forgetting not. 



TRUTH AND LABOR. 

BETTER to be poor and honest 
Than to wear dishonor's crown, 
Girt about with lands and houses, 

And the tribute of the town. 
Better smite the earth with labor, 

To produce your daily bread, 
Than to harvest where you sow not, 

Creeping with a stealthy tread. 
Truth and Labor strike together, 

Open heart and sturdy hand, 
And they blossom in the by-ways 

And ennoble all the land; 
Set the fields a-gold with harvest, 

Fill the barns with ripened grain, 
Crown the cities with their greatness, 

Set the ships athwart the main. 
Falsehood and deceit, dishonor, 

Raking in the muck for gold; 
Sneaking through the marts of Mammon, 

Where men's souls are bought and sold; 
Taking bribes — the cursed itching 

For the things they do not earn; 
Watching when some dark disaster 

Takes a brother at the turn; 

57 



5 8 TRUTH AND LABOR. 

Trampling down their rising manhood 

Under foot to serve their greed; 
Careless of a brother's sorrow, 

Careless of a brother's need — 
May grow rich, may dream they prosper, 

Win the plaudits of their kind, 
But they bear a gnawing conscience 

And a canker-haunted mind. 
Better is the poor man honest, 

Than the rich man full of guile; 
Better the approving conscience 

Than the fickle public smile. 
Honors plucked from out dishonor 

Sit upon the wearer's head 
Like the funeral plumes of hearses 

Bearing the dishonored dead. 
Truth and Labor linked together, 

Striking for the common right, 
Pluck the light from out the darkness, 

Set the stars above the night; 
Win the only crown worth wearing, 

Coin the manhood of mankind, 
And they stamp it with the impress 

Of the purer, nobler mind. 



THE HARVEST MOON. 



N the sheen of the April showers 
The seed of our love was sown, 
When the scent of the lilac blossoms 
On the vernal air was blown. 



I 



In the haze of the warm May sunlight, 
It grew from its garden bed; 

In the blue of your eyes that answered, 
Your lips that were warm and red. 



in. 



In the purple of Summer twilight, 
It blossommed so sweet and fair, 

'Mid the musk of the sleepy roses 
And glimmer of golden hair. 



In the blush of the summer sunrise 
It leaped from the azure sea, 

Queen of the garden it stood and shed 
Its glorious smiles on me. 

59 



60 THE HARVEST MOON. 

V. 

Sweet bud and fair blossom and beauty, 
O promise of what should come, 

I have watched, I have waited and wished, 
While your ruby lips were dumb. 

VI. 

Sweet bud and fair blossom and beauty, 
Sweet promise of what should be; 

While your smiles were a glimpse of heaven, 
Your words were sweeter to me. 

VII. 

I have watched and waited and wondered, 
Till mid-summer came and died, 

Till the gray was over the grasses, 
A tinge on the country-side. 

VIII. 

Till the breath of the blowing Autumn 
Came out of the dieams of June, 

And the fruit of our love was ripened 
There under the Harvest Moon. 

XI. 

And the fruit of our love was gathered 
In the light of the silver shield, 



THE HARVEST MOON. 6l 

Crowning the hopes of the rounded year — 
The harvest that shone afield. 

x. 

O, fair circle of silver beauty, 

O, love-haloed Harvest Moon, 
With the fruitage of perfect Autumn 

And flowers of perfect June. 



THE WELCOME. 



THE Four Gates are standing open, and the 
warders 
Say you: "Welcome." O my Brothers, at the altar, 
Let us burn the the soul's imperial, holy incense; 
Let us strike for Freedom while the cowards falter; 
Let us strike for Right amid the iron fetters; 
Let us strike at Wrong that smirking mocks the 

nation — 
Sounds the brasses and the cymbals, ever lifting 
Charlatanry, baseness to the highest station, 
While the Man is undervalued and discarded 
And true Manhood seaward with the tide is drifting. 

II. 

The Four Gates are standing open, and the warders 
Bid you: "Welcome." O my Brothers, when the 

glory 
Of our early dreams has blossomed or has perished, 
And the sacred chrisom-cloth has told its silent 

story, 
We shall know whereot we sang, and we shall 

mingle 

62 



THE WELCOME. 63 

With our dead and with the happy dead of others, 
Gone before us up Parnassus, some with laurels, 
Some with rue, and some with cypress, yet our 

brothers, 
Living down the world's eternal, climbing sorrow, 
Living down its envious hatreds and its quarrels. 

in. 

The Four Gates are standing open, and the warders 
Beckon: "Welcome." Brothers, yonder shines 

supernal 
From beyond the gates of jasper and the ocean 
Of the stars, a Light whose glory is eternal — 
Shines a Beauty which shall cheer our younger 

brothers: — 
The songs our fathers sang when Time was at the 

dawn, 
Through the astral depths still echo, and hereafter 
To men's souls their sweetness shall still be inter- 
drawn, 
And the greatness of the Past shall be the Future, 
And the ancient tears shall change to joyous 
laughter. 



The Four Gates are standing open, and the warders 
Cry you: " Welcome." O my Brothers, multiflorous 



64 THE WELCOME. 

Glow the gardens where all the Orphic singers 

stand: 
Ours are humble voices in the mighty chorus; 
Whispers in the rush of music sweeping onward 
Till the deserts bloom with beauty, and the glory 
Of the great Golden Age rekindleth, and the star 
Of the better world comes out in song and story, 
And the better hopes of men so fondly cherished, 
Like a beacon shall shine forever from afar. 



THE SHADOW ON THE WALL. 



WHAT are blood and brain and muscle 
But slaves in a trampled land ? 
The serfs of the priests of Mammon; 

The game of clique and clan; 

From railway kings to sharpers 

It is catch and keep who can. 

ii. 

What boots it that honest labor 

Works on for his daily bread, 
Or starves in the bitter struggle 

Or dies 'neath the heartless tread 
Of the sleek and stall-fed cattle, 

By the pompous placeman led ? 

in. 

The law is made for the trickster, 
The goad for the man that works; 

The millions are the Christians— 
The monopolists the Turks; 

There is meat and wine for the masters 
The lash for the slave that works. 
65 



66 THE SHADOW ON THE WALL. 

IV. 

And the haggard lips of labor 
Have vainly begged for relief 

To find the grip grow tighter 
Of monopolist and thief — 

The bauble span of his freedom 
Grow day by day more brief. 



And when on some black to-morrow 
The giant goaded and blind, 

Shall smite, in his wrath, his master, 
One blow for his babes and kind, 

The pale reapers of the whirlwind 
Will know that they sowed the wind. 



WAITING FOR THE SHIPS. 

I WAIT so long! " Poor gold-haired lad, 
The salt sea foam was on his lips — 
" I wait so long! I wait so long! 

But can not see the shining ships; 
Their white sails dropped behind the main 
So long ago, nor come again — 

Oh! will they come, the shining ships? 

"They took them one by one, and I 

Am left upon the dreary shore; 
I thought it sweet to see them go, 

But now the ships will come no more; 
Oh! suns that touch with warmth the lips 
Of my young mates! Oh! beauteous ships! 

Oh! pleasant ships that come no more! 

" I tarried, smiling as they went 
To walk the shores of wider thought, 

And, like a workman of the years, 

With patient care I toiled and wrought; 

And now across the billow tips 

I vainly gaze to see the ships, 
And find my fondest dreams are naught. 

67 



68 WAITING FOR THE SHIPS. 

" Oh! mates of mine! who touched the deck, 
And spread your canvas to the breeze, 

I see you on the wondrous isles 
That slumber softly in the seas; 

Where godlike Genius sits and sips 

The nectar — why detain the ships, 
Forgetful in your prosperous ease? 

"The golden fruits of newer thought 
Dropped quickening pulses in your blood, 

Until you grew so tall and grand 
You scorned the ground whereon you stood 

With him whose dry and parching lips 

Have called in vain to woo the ships 
Across the white foam of the flood. 

" I know you in your guise of strength, 
Though Genius touched your lips to flame; 

But who among you stoops to touch 
The smouldering memories of my name ? 

Why all forget the one who trips 

Among the toils! Oh! hidden ships, 
Tell them the land from whence they came! 

" I wait so long! I thought it sweet 
To see my young mates go before, 

And, with the warm pulse of my blood, 
I thought that they would love me more. 



WAITING FOR THE SHIPS. 69 

But now I tarry till my lips 
Are shriveled, calling for the ships 
That never come to kiss the shore. 



" Or is there some Lethean spell 
Of baptism comes with ripened thought, 

That touches out of sight the land 

Of bondage where we toiled and wrought ? 

And he who triumph's ruby sips, 

Forgets, and all the naked ships 

By piecemeal crumble into naught ? " 



PROMISE. 

EACH side the river in the sun 
The green fields lie in billowy swells, 
And from the belfries floating down 
The silver voice of village bells: 
The green sward joyously fortells 
The fragrant scent of new-mown hay, 
And looking through the mists I see 
The gold that crowns the harvest day. 

O joyful promise! sun and rain 

Across the furrows come and go, 
The song of promise, not of pain, 

Comes on the winnowing winds that blow; 

My sweetheart's cheeks like blossoms glow, 
The sweetest promise hidden there 

Amid the boskage of the spring, 
Resplendent in her beauty rare. 

From field and forest, em'rald crowned, 

Down to the river at our feet, 
There comes a dreamy, joyous sound, 

A soulful music, low and sweet, 
70 



PROMISE. 

Until our hearts responsive beat, 
And looking through the light we see 

The sweet completeness that shall crown 
The rapture of the days to be. 

Each side the river, in the sun, 

The green fields speak of summer hours, 
The nodding wild flowers dreaming on 

Of summer warmth and summer flowers, 

We of the opening orange showers, 
Until our feet in clover bloom 

Pause, and her ripened lips foretell 
The sweeter promise yet to come. 



7i 



THE RETURN. 



O, SONGS of the years glad and golden 
That come to me out of the night, 
From the land that lies like a shadow 

Where the sails of my ship shine white, 
O breath of the sleeping meadows, 

And scent of the dark mountain pines, 
O billowy flow of the ridges, 

That dip into far rounded lines, 
How the years have sped since I wandered 

Far out on the smooth, shining bay, 
Through the trackless fields of the ocean 

And the crimson doors of the day. 

n. 

But never an hour were forgotten 

The paths where my young feet have sped, 
To the shrine of my fair-haired goddess 

Whose lips like her roses were red. 

72 



THE RETURN. 

The cross of the south grew still brighter 
When her sweet image came to me, 

And the gold of her hair was over 
The soft haze of the Indian sea. 

in. 

Once more at the strand, and the anchor 

Lies deep, with the breezes aplay, 
She, deep in the sweets of fair dreamland, 

I impatient to greet the day. 
On the sand where farewells were spoken, 

And where glittered her diamond tears, 
We will meet on the shining morrow 

In the dawn of still happier years. 
She awakes — from her chamber window 

She answers my own signal light, 
Our lips will meet there in the morning, 

Our souls are together to-night. 



73 



THE KING'S HIGHWAY. 

HERE one shall say : " The way is dark," 
And one shall praise the perfect day, 
For each that weeps another laughs, 
Walking upon the King's Highway. 

Here merrymaker's shout with glee, 
And saddened mourners weep and pray; 

While huckster's hawk their tawdry wares, 
All moving on the King's Highway. 

Hope walks erect beside Despair, 
Love smiles while Hatred's minions slay, 

Virtue and Crime touch robes and press 
For room, upon the King's Highway. 

Age, totters here, Youth lingers there, 
As though the sun would shine alway — 

Beauty and the Destroyer walk 
Comrades along the King's Highway. 

74 



THE KING'S HIGHWAY. 

Here one hath only grief and threne, 
And one hath only warblings gay, 

The wise, the foolish and the blind, 
Keep step along the King's Highway. 

All came from out the lands of Hope 
Which at Life's happy sunrise lay, 

All quit their journey at the grave, 

Which ends at last the King's Highway. 



75 



WHY IT IS. 

"T^HERE are no songs like the old songs' 

1 And there's no love like the old, 
For in age we find the silver, 

And in youth we find the gold, 
The fruit hath not the fragrance 

Of the blossom young and fair; 
And the honey-dew of memory 

Lingers on forever there. 
In the evening all the shadows 

Point toward the gate of day, 
And the jewels that have charmed us 

Shine along the backward way. 
And the kisses were the sweetest 

When life's lilacs were in bloom, 
Nor can Time nor Grief e'er lessen 

Their rich sweetness, their perfume, 
'Tis because the sweetest stories 

To us by the dead were told, 
That there's no love like the old love, 

"There are no songs like the old " 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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